


Favours, Fatherhood and Failure

by runrarebit



Series: Misfits Moments [22]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Angst, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dark!Simon, M/M, Men Crying, Mike also being self involved, Mike trying to parent, Nathan having feelings, Panic, Past Rape/Non-con, Past underage sexual assault, Simon being an idiot, Simon is a twat, anixiety, internalised victim blaming, mentions of vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 23:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19037302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrarebit/pseuds/runrarebit
Summary: Set during S03E01, afterRepulsion, and leading on fromJeremy Versus the Son-in-Lawand especiallySpiral Fracture.Nathan wants a favour from his father so has to stop avoiding at least one of his parents after the events of Spiral Fracture. Also, Simon is a twat.





	Favours, Fatherhood and Failure

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: For everything from Spiral Fracture, so discussions of childhood sexual abuse and all the fallout from that. 
> 
> It's Friday here and the end of an odd week. I hope you're all well and having a reasonably good time! Thanks, like usual, for the comments and kudos- and for being so understanding!
> 
> Also, did you know Dexter Fletcher- Mike Young's actor- replaced Bryan Singer as director for the last couple of weeks on on Bohemian Rhapsody and is the director for the new biopic about Elton John?

‘You absolute, complete and total, magnificent, undeniable _twat,_ ’ is what he says when Simon tells him about his day and fesses up to being caught in the stolen car with that their mates and that split-personality cunt. The words just slip out. He sees that Simon looks as startled as he does— he has to admit that since they’ve got together he’s been fairly sweet to his boyfriend, but this— ‘I just spent half the day having a deep and meaningful and very much _unwanted_ conversation with my dad about who may or may not have sexually abused me as a child, and who may or may not have failed in their duty as a parent to protect me, and who may or may not have castrated and carved “paedophile” into the face of one of my abusers— all so I could get him to talk to some of his film friends about getting you some work experience or something, and when I get back I only find you’ve now ended up with another round of community service.’

‘Sorry,’ Simon replies, reflexively, before the contents of his rant seem to register. ‘You went to see Mike? I thought you didn’t want to talk to either of your parents right now.’

‘I don’t, well— I _didn’t_ — but—’ he trails off, starting to feel like a right twat for carrying on. It’s been kind of a hard day— hard afternoon. He might have cried. Just a bit. 

The worst thing was how _gentle_ his dad was with him. Like, he shows up on the man’s door, tells him that the only reason he’s here is because he wants a favour for his boyfriend, gets hostile once his dad brings up the stuff in the papers— and Mike won’t even argue back. Just makes him a cup of tea and gently shepherds him into a comfortable chair— and then he’d said, ‘I’m so fucking sorry, Nathan. No wonder you hate me,’— just like that, and it was like all this rage inside of him keeping him afloat had just— deflated.

He doesn’t remember everything that happened, everything they discussed, everything they shouted at each other, or even why he started crying and ended up sitting on the floor with his dad hugging him. For most of the time he does remember feeling freezing cold, his teeth chattering at times, the world feeling like it was floating away from him at others. There are some things he does remember though, startlingly clearly, mainly things his dad had said or done. 

The first bit’s a bit clearer, when his dad had asked if Richard had— done what he’d done, if he was one of the man’s _victims_ — and he hadn’t been able to deny it— so then he’d had to carefully navigate a series of question that made them both uncomfortable and which could be summed up as his dad trying to work out exactly what Richard had done to him, and him trying to make it clear _Simon_ was the first person to actually fuck him— but at the same time the stuff with Richard wasn’t exactly— great. He hates thinking about it, has tried to avoid thinking about it until recent events have made some of that avoidance impossible, but he’s pretty sure Richard had liked making him cry. 

It’s probably good he’d cried so easily— premature ejaculator that the man was.

His dad had gotten very quiet for a bit after that, and he can perfectly remember looking at the side of the man’s face, watching the way the man’s jaw was clenching. ‘And Simon—’ his dad had said eventually, hesitantly, ‘That night he showed up here asking about _that man_ — he knows?’

‘He knows,’ Simon is still— sometimes he catches the man staring off into nothing, almost quivering with rage. He suspects part of it is planning what his boyfriend is going to do to Father Maher when he finds the man, but _Simon_ won’t talk about it and _he_ hasn’t yet worked out how to deal with his emotions about everything.

There had been a pause then, he remembers the pause, and then his dad had very carefully asked if Simon was the one who had attacked Richard, without actually saying the words. Deniability and all. 

He hadn’t known what to do, whether his dad was going to go to the police, so he’d tried to feel out the situation, asking Mike how he’d react if it was Simon without actually admitting it _was_ Simon.

‘I’d want to fucking shake his hand,’ his dad said with a rueful and kind of wet sounding laugh. He hadn’t quiet known how to react to that. It didn’t make _sense,_ not with his conceptualisation of their relationship. His dad had still been talking, he remembers the next words too, ‘I’m not a violet man— or at least I like to think of myself as not being a violent man— but all this has really been testing me—‘ His dad had looked away from him then, glancing at the empty cup on the coffee table, and he can remember thinking how defeated the man had seemed. Small. ‘I’ll get us another cup of tea. I’m not sure how much use it is, but at least making it stops me feeling so _useless._ ’

He’d sat there, not saying anything, just staring at the tealeaves swimming in milk and sugar at the bottom of his own cup. He hadn’t wanted to bring Simon with him, he was trying to do something nice for his boyfriend— but also it felt like maybe something he needed to do by himself. Though he’s not sure why. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted Simon to see if things got really ugly between them, if he got as vicious as he can get— though he thinks there’s more to it than that. Like, to be the person he wants to be with Simon maybe he needs to deal with this himself. 

Eventually his dad had come back in the room, holding out a new cup of tea. He’d put his old one on the floor and taken the new one, the heat of it almost stinging his fingers. ‘I don’t even know how I remembered his name—’ his dad had been saying, ‘I think on some level I must have known he’d done something. I mean, not at first, but— You were so _hostile_ after— not that dealing with you before was always a field of roses, but after—’ Mike had sunk down onto the nearby couch, looking at his cup of tea, before clunking it down on the coffee table next to his empty cup. ‘I guess it’s no wonder you didn’t want to be my son anymore.’ 

He hadn’t known what to say to that. He hadn’t expected this— the gentleness, the admissions of guilt— what he’d expected was his dad to get angry and defensive, or maybe blame him, say he’d seduced the man— Richard had used to say that, that with the way he was, the way he used his body, everyone would think that it was his fault, that Richard hadn’t been able to resist taking what was so obviously on offer. He’d told the man to fuck off at the time, but the thought had bothered him after, the few times after Richard had left when he had really considered telling his parents. 

His dad had started talking again anyway, so it hadn’t mattered that he didn’t know what to say. ‘I remember what I said to you when you told me— I didn’t at first, but something kept niggling at me, then a couple nights after the story broke in the papers I woke up— must have been about three— then I remembered. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so angry with myself. I know things were already fucked between us, but back then you still _trusted_ me enough to come to me for help and how did I react?’

The memory had triggered some of his old, familiar rage. ‘By telling me he was a nice guy and to stop lying and making things hard for mum.’ The words had come out hard, not even mocking, just angry and miserable. 

It had been his dad’s turn to be speechless for a moment. He doesn’t quite remember the next bit. The reminder had upset him, and he’d gotten nasty, getting in his dad’s face and spitting accusations— but Mike had taken it like he deserved it, and that had puffed the wind right out of his sails.

He thinks it was then that his dad had asked why he didn’t tell everyone the truth when Richard had buggered off— but it might have been later in the conversation, he’s not sure. He’d had to admit what the man had threatened to do to his mum, which had set his dad off— but not because of the threat to Louise, but because _he’d_ been trying to protect _her_ when it should have been the other way around. 

It seems the relationship between his parents has sunk from _Scotland in winter_ to _the surface of Pluto_ levels of chilly after they all worked out why Simon was asking about Richard. 

He thinks he tried to defend his mum from the worst of the implications of bad parenting, especially as this was coming from his _dad,_ but the man hadn’t exactly been in a mood to listen. At that point his dad had mainly been in a mood to talk about himself, and he can remember the man saying, ‘I keep catching myself thinking that if your mum hadn’t been on the phone every other day, moaning in my ear about what a handful you were, what terrible thing you’d done or said, the way you’d lie about this or that, the way you were making it so hard for her to be happy— and I knew she was blaming me and it would just _piss me off_ — I keep thinking that maybe if it wasn’t for all of that I’d have listened more— but that’s just trying to excuse myself. It was easy to believe you were lying, because if you weren’t lying— what was I supposed to do then? I want to believe I’d have tracked him down and knocked his fucking teeth in— but am I kidding myself? Would I have just stood around, not knowing what to do?— In a way I envy your Simon, that clarity of purpose. He seems like the kind of man who actually does what he says he will— I remember having girlfriends, back when I was younger— your mum, even— and I can remember promising them if anyone ever did anything like that to them I’d kill the bastard, but I’ve been thinking about it these last few days and I don’t think I’d have actually done it, and I gotta say, that realisation isn’t helping me feel less shit about myself—'

So then they’d had another bit of a fight about it not mattering what his dad would have done, because his dad didn’t _actually do anything,_ and could Mike possibly not make it about himself. Or, he had a go— and his dad got defensive for a moment, but then seemed to realise he was being a prick and actually _backed down and apologized._

But then his dad had gotten back onto the topic of how pissed off he is with his mum about it, her not keeping him safe, saying something about being a shit dad but thinking he could trust her to take care of him, even if he wasn’t around himself to do it. And he’d made a noise. It was kind of a mocking noise. Probably not the best noise to have made, because his dad had focused in on it like a bloodhound on a scent, and somewhere in the muddle of what had happened next he’d let slip about Father Maher. 

Then he’d burst into tears and massively freaked out— he thinks his dad probably now knows at least as many details of what happened there as Simon, if not more— and it was then, wasn’t it? That he’d ended up on the floor with his dad curled around him. Everything after that point is pretty incoherent in his memory. He has flashes— his dad angry, his dad crying, his dad looking old— ancient— his dad’s arms around him, his dad telling him it wasn’t his fault when he’d insisted that it was, his dad promising that if he wants to tell the cops or something he’ll support him, his dad asking if Simon knows and when he says _yes_ promising not to say anything if his boyfriend decides to sort it out himself. There’s also some more snarling about his mum, this time about her evil fucking church— even though he pointed out she’s always been mostly an atheist and certainly isn’t a Catholic anymore. 

Eventually he’d ended up on his usual spot on the couch, only he was leaning on his dad— not quite the full-body way he likes to lean on Simon— and his dad had an arm around him, and it had been— it had been _nice._ Girly and twattish and overly emotional— but _nice._

If he’s honest with himself he kind of feels like after it all something rotting away at the core of him has been dragged into the light and hosed off a bit. All the— _feelings_ in there are still there, if he thinks about shit for too long, but they don’t feel so sickeningly intense and putrid. He kind of feels a bit better— even if he feels absolutely wretched right now, drained and hollowed out and sort of sick— but he thinks once a few days have passed the bit better feeling will end up the dominant one. 

Before his dad would let him leave the man had wanted to be sure he was ok, had made him sit there until he stopped trembling, had made him _promise_ to call if he needed anything at all, had given him another hundred quid— and then started a kind of awkward conversations about whether Simon was pressuring him to do anything he didn’t want to do in bed. 

From what he remembers it had started when his father had hesitated after handing over the money and then said, ‘And Simon— he’s being good about it? Not _pushing you_ for stuff you don’t want to do?’

‘I don’t think Simon’s ever wanted to do something I haven’t wanted to do—' he’d replied, which was true— aside from leaving him alone and occasionally trying to unnecessarily murder someone where he might get caught. Cute girl’s father, for one. 

‘But he is being careful with you, isn’t he?’ his dad had asked, looking determinately constipated, ‘Look— I had this girlfriend— this was before I met your mum— and when she was a kid her dad had— well, it doesn’t matter. She had a hard time of it, sometimes. She wouldn’t always know if she wanted to do something or if something would freak her out partway through— and not all her boyfriends had been good about that, which didn’t help with the way she’d always been taught she couldn’t say “no”— so I had to learn to be careful of her. Check in, make sure she was still enjoying herself. Sometimes stop if I could tell she wasn’t but didn’t know how to say it—’

‘Simon’s good to me,’ is what he’ said in the end. ‘Better than anyone has ever been, better than I ever expected— probably better than I deserve—’

His dad had interrupted him then, actually pulling him into another hug. ‘No, Nathan. Don’t ever think that, ok? I mean, we both know you can be a right little shit, but I’ve seen the way you are with Simon, with Jamie— even with Lily, even though you keep forgetting her name. And there’s how much I know you love your mum. You’re not as hard as you like to pretend you are. You deserve what you’ve got with Simon, and as your dad I’m happy to see you’ve got someone taking care of you.’

Some further emotions may have arisen at that point.

Anyway, his dad had even offered to drive him wherever he wanted to go, the man’s face scrunching up when he said he’d arranged to meet Simon at the Community Centre. He’s pretty sure there’s a conversation about whether he actually has somewhere to live close on the horizon, but they’d both been too emotionally exhausted to have it just then. 

As they’d pulled up at the Community Centre his dad had promised to get in touch with some of his friends in the film and television industry, see what he could do for Simon— _”not just because he’s your boyfriend, though it’s an added incentive, but he’s clever and he knows his films and he’s got a real eye for pacing and atmosphere— from some of our conversations— and it’d be a waste to let a mind like that end up an accountant or something.”_

Then, of course, he comes in searching for his boyfriend, kind of wanting some Simon-based cuddles and a bit of gentle petting, and what does he discover? ‘Twat!’ he repeats. Fuck. He’s going to have to ring his dad and explain that Simon won’t be free for work experience all the time for the next seven weeks, because his good nature got him suckered into another round of community service. 

Then he’s going to have Kelly explain to him the finer points of giving someone a kicking so he can do his best to replicate her advice on that fucking Rudy.


End file.
